


And sings the tune without the words

by lorcaswhisky (aristofranes)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen, Grief, Guilt, how does a katra work anyway?, or whatever the Vulcan equivalents are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22258624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristofranes/pseuds/lorcaswhisky
Summary: This is silence where once there was music.In the aftermath of the battle with Control, the extent of the damage to Sarek's katra becomes apparent.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	And sings the tune without the words

He stands at the window of the shuttle. He does not watch. He is too far away to watch, too far away to even imagine that he can see what is happening. Instead, he stills, eyes closed, like one straining to hear a familiar melody from a distance, until the final notes drift at last beyond all hearing.

She is gone.

The shock of the severance hits, then, all at once; a recoil snap, a ringing in the ears that deafens all else, a tsunami that sends everything roiling and tumbling, and the next time he opens his eyes it is three days later and Amanda is at his bedside. When she brushes her fingertips against his, her concern breaks over him like a fresh wave, threatens to pull him out with the tide and overwhelm him altogether. 

Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan reels, retches, vomits into a basin held out for him, helpless.

He has lost others, will lose others still, the bargain willingly struck for a lifetime with Amanda, but none like this. This is not like death.

Death leaves something behind. 

This is a tear, a rip, a mutilation. He has lost a part of his very soul. 

This is silence where once there was music.

While he convalesces, Starfleet meet in shadowed rooms and make decisions about the future - or, perhaps more precisely, the past - of _Discovery._ Of her crew. 

Their daughter.

In the end, it is their own son's recommendation that wins the day.

Nobody consults them. 

The doctors ask questions that Sarek is no longer permitted to answer. 

Silence. 

He is not strong enough, yet, to withstand the weight of Amanda's emotions. She has lost her daughter, she has all but lost her son, she almost lost her husband, and he is unable to offer her any comfort. He is - too weak to offer her any comfort.

Amanda keeps her hands gloved. Sarek spends secluded days in meditation. 

Fear is illogical. Sarek does not experience fear. It is not fear that keeps him away from Amanda, safe from confronting all that she feels. It is not. 

It cannot be.

Sunset on Vulcan turns the whole sky red, bright enough, perhaps, to be a signal, to reach wherever - whenever - she is now. But Sarek and Amanda, walking slowly, carefully, on the doctor's advice, gentle exercise to aid his recovery, do not pause to watch it. They continue, side by side, in step but apart, their hands so close that he can feel the warmth of her even in the desert heat. They continue through those great doors, climb down into the cool of the crypt, where they can finally speak.

Amanda does not have to ask when, at last, far too late, he touches his fingers to hers. Even without this bond, she would know all that he has lost. 

It is, he realises now, the same thing that she has lost.

The wave breaks, but when Sarek is pulled under he finds that there is something else, beneath the emotion, tethered like a lifebuoy to Amanda’s memories. There is a lullaby. Fragments of childish song. Peals of laughter ringing out down contemplative corridors. 

There is a melody.

There is music. 

There is Michael.

Hope is illogical. Sarek does not experience hope. 

But Sarek hopes, all the same.


End file.
